Double Dare by Edward Keyes

Author:Edward Keyes [Keyes Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504042536
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2016-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

16

Liz cleaned and dressed the sickening wound while he was still out. When he came to and found her there, his head in her lap, he held her close as though he had been away a long time. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about how it had happened, and she didn’t press him. She brought him something to eat and took him up to bed.

Farrell awakened very sore, his body stiff as though he’d overdone a long day of manual labor. With a start he remembered the Kel discarded on the living room floor. Liz calmed him. She’d found the contraption, and had wrapped it in a plastic bag and stuffed it into the back of the crisping drawer in the bottom of the refrigerator. She didn’t think it was the sort of thing to leave lying around the house for visitors.

The doctor told him it was very nearly a third-degree burn. He praised whoever had tended to it. The doctor’s manner suggested he was dying of curiosity to know how one managed to burn himself with acid so uniformly on that part of the body, but Farrell didn’t bother to offer an explanation. He couldn’t think of a lie that was plausible.

Later that morning Farrell took a cab to the New York Hilton in midtown. Brendan Hartnett waited there in a suite on the twenty-seventh floor. Thomas and Stabler were with him, along with a tape-player, and of course Sheila Carbone and her notebook. All apologized profusely for his freakish mishap.

They listened to the tape, such as it was, Farrell filling in the gaps as best as he could remember and clarifying parts that were garbled or ambiguous. Obviously the “tourists” landing at Haiti or the Dominican Republic would pick up their consignments of cocaine at preordained local gift shops; their locations should not be hard to uncover as the operation proceeded. Not yet clear was how the dope would finally be switched at San Juan. As for the transportation of the contraband by air from South American points, the odds were on somewhere in Colombia. Home base for the chartered aircraft mentioned by the Giant might be Florida. This surmise was grounded in new information compiled on the contact Cheech had visited in Key Biscayne, the Cuban Raúl Santiago. Santiago had recently acquired franchises at several general-aviation facilities dotting southern Florida, and was in a position to provide a variety of aircraft types, from sporty two-seaters to refitted DC-3’s.

For the rest, Abou Jamal would supervise allocation and distribution of the cocaine when it did start flowing in. And Farrell’s own assignment seemed a particular stroke of fortune: The Giant had named him, with a touch of whimsy, “tour director”—to administer actual movement of the couriers by sea and air. It could hardly have been better, the lawmen exulted, if they’d planted him themselves!

Farrell brought up the question of Frank Casanova. Hartnett said there seemed little doubt now that it was Casanova who’d dipped into the Elysée seizure, although proving it conclusively might be something else again.

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